


These Are Gucci, Bitch

by Madame_Kiksters



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas Gift Fic, F/F, Fashion Shows, Fluff, Humor, Swearing, mostly from widowmaker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 20:09:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13174311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Kiksters/pseuds/Madame_Kiksters
Summary: Amelie never felt so alive.





	These Are Gucci, Bitch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [app_jelly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/app_jelly/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, app_jelly!

It was another beautiful day in France. The birds were singing, the wind was gently blowing, the sun came streaming down in wonderful rays. Rays that were shining right through Amelie’s big ass windows and into her fucking eye.

“Le fuck?” She peeked her eye open before immediately turning over and covering her head, not wanting to leave the comfort of her bed just yet. It was one of the few things she enjoyed in this world, and no damn star millions of light years away was going to ruin it for her.

The blankets still allowed some light to filter through, so she piled more of her bedding on top of her to pretend it was still the blessed night. When she finally managed to escape the sun’s rays, she gave a sigh of relief and closed her eyes.

It was less than a minute before she came up gasping for air. The feeling of being suffocated by all of her bedding too much to bear.

“Zis is fucking bullshit!” she grumbled under her breath as she threw the covers off of her and sat on the edge of the bed. She took a deep breath and rubbed her face before slipping into her bedside slippers.

She completed her morning ritual at a slower pace than usual and it was annoying her to no end, because she just couldn’t seem to make herself more energetic.

She didn’t even have feelings, but this was the worst!

When she finished, she decided to skip breakfast and go straight for the wine. She grabbed an unopened bottle and popped the cork before taking a long drink.

“That’s a little better.” She admitted and decided to walk around the house drinking the entire bottle.

She aimlessly wandered the halls of her chateau in search of nothing, steadily finishing her bottle. She felt that feeling of forgetting something important, but she just couldn’t remember what.

Then she found it, the thing she was searching for. A large trunk in the room furthest from hers. Why it was all the way over there, Widow would never know.

She finished off the bottle before she approached the chest and discovered it was locked. She looked around for a key nearby, but decided a bullet would be much faster. Amelie would have been pleased with her quick thinking if she was capable of such emotions.

The bullet blew through the lock and would have continued through the chest if Amelie hadn’t known that her rifle was an incredibly powerful weapon and angled herself to the side of the lock. The bullet instead ripped through the lock before lodging itself in the wall, after passing through the various other pieces of stored furniture in the room.

“Magnifique.”

She strutted over to the chest and lifted the lid to reveal several of the most horrendous articles of clothing she had ever witnessed. The first item, an intricate mask that looked like it belonged at a masquerade ball. Smirking to herself, she held the mask up to her face.

“I’m Reaper. I’m a one-man army. I don’t need anyone else. Except when I run out of mist juice in the middle of the enemy team.”

Amelie paused as she realized what she’d just done, then giggled at the absurdity, she felt ridiculous.

She felt ridiculous.

She _felt_ ridiculous.

Grinning with delight, she rifled through the trunk and discovered several more items. First on the list, a sequin glove.

“I am Doomfist. I can’t stop my powerful moves, not even if I am going over the fucking cliff. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger! No, wait. That wasn’t him, that was someone else. Ah well, similar enough.”

She donned a black glove onto her free hand. “I’m Moira and I never make any fucking sense!”

She chuckled to herself as she continued searching through the chest. She found purple lipstick and applied it.

“Sombra online all the fucking time! Look at me! I am so edgy with my cool hair and purple eyes and goofy smile. No…that was more of a compliment. Fuck.”

She rubbed the lipstick off and continued searching through the chest. She found a large hot pink boa, large sunglasses, a beret with a large feather sticking out of it, a pair of hot pink thigh-high stockings, and the most ridiculous pair of boots she’d ever seen.

She quickly pulled them out and lugged them to her room. First, she pulled out a nice pantsuit and her second favorite pair of heels from her closet. Then she removed the boa, the glasses, and the beret.

Donning the outfit, she realized that she looked ridiculous, but she found she kind of liked the look. She strutted around her house and continued to talk shit about the members of Talon.

“Don’t even get me started on that fucking Widowmaker…wait. Fuck, that’s me. Nevermind.”

She retreated to her room and changed her clothes. This time, she wore a revealing cocktail dress that had a slit all the way up to her shoulder that was cinched together with two belts. Along with this, she wore the thigh-high stockings, the ridiculous boots, and kept the boa. She looked down at her boots and the purple, smiley face slippers she’d received from Sombra long ago and thought of an amazing idea. She tugged the slippers over her boots and it created an amazing look.

She did a circuit around the house and was almost back to her room before she heard a voice from behind her.

“Widow? What the hell are you wearing?”

Amelie whipped around and felt her bitchin’ ponytail strike her side from the action. “These are Gucci, bitch.” She answered as she continued on, flipping Sombra off.

“Amelie, why are you like this?”

“Like what? Happy?”

“Are you really?”

“Of course I am! Would I be fucking smiling if I wasn’t happy?”

“Amelie…you’re _not_ smiling.”

“Oh fuck. I can’t feel my fucking face.” She used her two index fingers to make herself smile. “Shee? Shmiling. Happy.”

Sombra smiled at her antics before sighing. She looked down at her Shrimp shirt and shorts, and her Walmu flipflops before looking at Amelie’s ensemble. The boots first caught her attention. It was unmistakable, that Shrimp logo.

“Are those Shrimp boots?”

“Of course they are. What do you fucking take me for? I am rich as shit. I could wear everything Shrimp every day if I wanted to.”

“You mean to tell me you _don’t_ want to wear Shrimp? Their outfits are so stylish and yet comfy!”

Amelie scoffed. “Stylish. I have more style in my single finger than their entire line of clothing.”

“I…can’t argue with that.” Sombra admitted as she took in Amelie’s outift.

“You never could argue with me.”

Sombra gave her a goofy grin. “You got that right, babe.”

“Ugh. Let’s go to the kitchen and you can make me something to eat.”

“It’s only two in the afternoon.”

“I haven’t eaten all fucking day.”

“Widow!” Sombra scolded before she escorted Amelie to the kitchen and seated her on a barstool. “You sit there while I make you something.”

Amelie nodded but didn’t say anything more as she watched Sombra rifle through her fridge and pull out various ingredients.

She didn’t know how the other woman did it, but after a seemingly short amount of time, Sombra set down a plate full of heavenly smelling food.

Another plate was set down next to her and Sombra rounded the counter to sit beside her.

“So…come here often?” Sombra flirted jokingly.

Amelie didn’t get it, so she answered. “I fucking live here? So…on occasion, yes. I do visit my kitchen.”

Sombra laughed, Amelie didn’t, so she focused on eating instead.

They were finishing up when Sombra announced, “I really missed this.”

“What?”

“Sharing a meal with someone.” Sombra confessed quietly.

Amelie had sobered a bit as she ate, so she was coherent enough to understand the seriousness of the moment.

“Me too.” She answered.

From that point on, Sombra would come over once a week and cook dinner for Amelie. Sometimes they would have dress up parties, other times they would end up in bed together, but more often than not, they ended up cuddling in Amelie’s library for hours after dinner. Soaking in each other’s presence. It was nice.

It wasn’t too long before Amelie felt life in the rooms of her empty house where before there was none. She smiled to herself as she went to the room with the chest of dress-up clothes to find it had disappeared. In its place was a single piece of paper.

She approached cautiously and picked it up to inspect it.

‘ _I moved the chest closer to your room so we didn’t have to trek so far when we wanted to put on our fashion shows. Love, Sombra’_

Amelie smiled as she sent a quick message to her girlfriend.

_‘It’s Gucci, bitch’_

__

 

 

 


End file.
